


Sweeter Than the Words I Left in Your Mouth

by archersand



Series: Craving Something Sweeter [1]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Isolation, M/M, Musician Luke Hemmings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:08:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27645266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archersand/pseuds/archersand
Summary: The next morning, preparing before sunrise for his day job at the coffee shop, Luke went to leave and there, slid under the door, was a thick envelope. Luke picked it up with an abundance of caution, thinking of horror stories and conspiracies. He opened it over the sink, turning his face the other way. But inside were a stack of 20 dollar bills.No note. No explanation. Just the money.
Relationships: Michael Clifford/Luke Hemmings
Series: Craving Something Sweeter [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2029951
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of an AU of the AU I wrote last month. In which Luke is a struggling musician and Michael is a struggling human. But Ashton's actually in this one!  
> It's also inspired by the 5sos on Michael video where they all say something about him being isolated from the world for years. But, just like with everything I've written, I obviously don't know anyone in 5 Seconds of Summer personally. This isn't me speculating on their mental state. If any of them should read this (oh Jesus, can you imagine) I hope they'd see it as just a story featuring their face and not a whole lot else. 
> 
> Hope you're well! Much love!

Ashton answered on the first ring. “Luke?” he said, concerned immediately. 

Luke sunk down to the cold floorboards of his tiny apartment bedroom. “Ash,” he said, “I’ve had a really bad day. I wouldn’t have called, only-”

“Of course you should’ve called.” His voice sounded so soothing, even through the concern. “What’s happened?”

“Some asshole on the subway knocked me down and my guitar broke. I have a show this week. I need it. But if I pay to fix it, I won’t be able to make rent this month.” Luke put his head down between his knees, the winter chill curling into his lungs. The apartment was growing increasingly freezing as the months progressed and it became apparent the landlord wasn’t going to turn up the heat. 

“Oh Jesus. I’m sorry, Luke.” 

“What should I do, Ash? I’ll have to cancel. But if I cancel last minute like this, they won’t book me again. I needed this show. I-I-” He was seconds away from crying in frustration. 

“Ok.” Ashton was putting on his older brother voice. “Could you call your parents? Ask to borrow some money?”

“No!” Luke said emphatically. “I can just hear what they’d say, ‘clearly the musician thing isn’t working Luke. Time to come home. I’ll get you that job working the fish market.’ I can’t do that.” 

“Well then you’ll have to cancel, Luke. You’re good. They’ll understand.” 

“Maybe.” But they wouldn’t. Luke knew the manager. Knew how’d he had to push and push to be given even this chance. 

“I’d give you the money, if I had it. You know I would.”

“Yeah. I do. Thanks anyway.” 

“It’s going to be ok, Luke. It’ll work out.” 

Luke hung up the phone minutes later. He stayed on the floor a little longer, let himself sob a little self-indulgently. The guitar had been so special to him, a symbol of a future he believed in. A path he was heading down without any roadblocks visible. When the man had slammed into him and Luke had watched the guitar go flying out of his hands and crashing down the steps, it was like for the first time his parents were right. Maybe he couldn’t hack it. Maybe it was time to put the dream away. 

The next morning, preparing before sunrise for his day job at the coffee shop, Luke went to leave and there, slid under the door, was a thick envelope. Luke picked it up with an abundance of caution, thinking of horror stories and conspiracies. He opened it over the sink, turning his face the other way. But inside were a stack of 20 dollar bills. 

No note. No explanation. Just the money. Luke counted out 300 dollars. He quickly shuffled it into his junk drawer. He was going to be late for work. He’d think about it later. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, hello! The end of this story is really coming together so I'm going to attempt to post a chapter every day! Hope you like it!

The coffee shop was a bustling chain. Nothing homely or comforting. Except that Ashton worked there too. 

They didn’t get a chance to really talk until the early morning rush slowed. Ashton discarded the possibility of anthrax or mistaken identity bribes and also denied having anything to do with the sudden windfall. 

“I’m telling you. It wasn’t me. I swear I would’ve just given you the money, if I had any.” 

“No, I know.” Luke felt guilty for even bringing it up again. He knew Ashton was helping support his brother and sister. He knew there was nothing to spare. “I just don’t understand. I didn’t tell anyone else. Who could’ve done it? Was there, like, a drug deal in the hallway that got busted and they were trying to dump the money quick? And it was like, a coincidence?” 

“Woah, calm your imagination a bit there.” Ashton laughed. “I think even you would’ve noticed a drug raid happening outside your door.” 

“Well, what else could it be! Should I bring the money to the police?” 

“No. You should get your guitar fixed and go smash your show.” They were distracted by making a few drink, working the register. When the crowd lulled again, they returned to the subject. “Hey, here’s a thought! Didn’t you say the walls of your apartment are like, ridiculously thin? Like you can hear the couple on the other side when they’re having just normal conversations?” 

“Yeah. But I was in my bedroom, leaning against the other wall. No way they could’ve heard.”

“So? Maybe the person on the east side of you overheard.”

“I’ve never heard anything coming from that apartment. I’ve never seen anyone coming or going. I didn’t think anyone lived there.” 

“Well. Maybe someone does. Someone very quiet. Got a better idea?” 

When Luke got home that night from dropping off his guitar at the repair shop, he paused outside his neighbors apartment. He tentatively knocked on the door but there was no answer. He tried again an hour later, after eating some pasta on his threadbare sofa and occasionally going to the bedroom wall to listen for movement next door. 

No answer. 

An hour after that he tried again and, feeling like the world's biggest creeper, lay down on the floor to look under the door for signs of life. To his surprise, he could see lights reflected on the scuffed floor. And the shadow of a person on the other side of the door, their feet in heavy socks. 

“Um. Hello?” Luke stayed on his knees but tried to sound like he hadn’t just spied what was definitely someone. “Someone gave me some money this morning to fix my guitar? I think maybe it was you?” 

There was only silence. 

“Anyway, I hope it was you. Because, it only ended up costing 100 dollars to fix so. I wanted to give the rest of the money back to the person who did that.” Luke took the envelope and slid the remaining money under the door. Just a corner of the envelope was peeking out. Then, suddenly, it was pulled the rest of the way through. “Thank you so much for loaning me the money. I’m going to pay you the 100 back as soon as I can.” 

There was a sound, finally, from the other side and then a torn piece of the envelope was thrust back under the door. 

“ _ Don’t worry about it _ ” was written on it in messy handwriting. Nothing else.

“Ok. Well. Thanks again.” Luke heaved himself back up from the floor. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, friends, I've been doing a quarantine so my brain is like, what day is it? What time is it? Are there any humans out there? I've forgotten what mankind is like.   
> Hope you, where ever you are, are doing well and keeping safe. Much love!

“It was your neighbor!” Ashton crowed, triumphant. “Who’s the best detective of our generation!” 

“Um. You?” Luke poured another cup of dark roast and slid it across the counter to a very confused looking business woman. “Isn’t it weird though? That they’d give me all this money and then not answer their door?” 

“Not really.” Ashton was aggressively not working, lining up all the boxes of tea alphabetically, then reverse alphabetically. “Maybe he was embarrassed that he overheard something so personal? Maybe he intended it as a secret good deed and never wanted you to know it was him.” 

“We don’t know it’s a him.”

“Look at that handwriting, Luke. It’s a him.” 

“Well. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. I’ll work extra hard next month, pay him back the 100 dollars and then we’ll never interact again.” 

“Sure.” Ashton pushed the mass of his hair back under his management mandated hat, “yeah, ok. When are we going to stop pretending your life isn’t a romcom? You’re practically Kate Beckinsdale. And he’s going to pop out into the hallway any minute as the spitting image of John Cusack.” 

“Woah, sweet 90s reference, bro.” Luke rolled his eyes. 

“Serendipity came out in 2001.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Luke pushed Ashton towards the register, “go help that man before I take my eyes out with a stir stick.”

“Gross!” Ashton yelled over his shoulder, but went. 

In the following weeks, things were looking up for Luke. He worked a bunch of extra shifts and played as many shows as he possibly could book. He was putting away the extra money and feeling good until, abruptly, he wasn’t. He woke a few weeks in hacking and gasping, spent several days laying miserable in bed and then finally caved and let Ashton drive him to urgent care. From there, he watched doctor bills and prescriptions eat up all his hoarded earnings. And then some. 

He lay awake in bed into the early morning hours, trying to think of what he could sell, where he could go, to make rent. But his thoughts kept circling back to one place. So he put on 3 sweaters, wrapped his comforter around his shoulders and went out into the hallway. 

He knelt down on the floor first and saw that, yes, there was a light on in his neighbors apartment, though it was as silent as ever. Then he knocked on the door. This time, listening so carefully, he could hear the faint sound of feet approaching. 

“Hey,” he spoke softly out of deference for the people in nearby apartments. But also because his voice was still raspy from all the coughing. “I’m sorry to do this, man. I really wanted to pay you back this month but-”

Before he could get any further, a scrap of paper was pushed under the door. “ _ Really, it’s no big deal. Are you feeling better? _ ”

Luke stared down at scrawled words. Of course, the neighbor would’ve heard all the coughing through the wall. “Uh. Yeah. I’m getting there. But I haven’t been able to go to work for a while and I have all these bills now and I was hoping. I mean I know I owe you already but I thought. Maybe you’d be ok with-”

Again before he could finish there was another scrap pushed under the door, “ _ Hold on.” _ There were footsteps again, receding into the apartment. Luke waited, shivering. Then they returned and something was pushed under the door. 

Luke pulled it closer cautiously. It was a check. The date was filled in and it was signed with a spikey, unintelligible signature. But the rest was blank. 

“What? Um? Are you? I mean.” Luke stammered. 

Another scrap of paper, “ _ however much you need _ .” 

“You can’t do this. You don’t know me. What if I write on there like, five thousand dollars or something.” 

More paper, the scraps were getting small. He was probably running out, “ _ please don’t. _ ”

That surprised a little laugh out of Luke which made him cough. “Ok. If you’re sure. I’ll pay you back, I swear.” 

“ _ Don’t worry about it _ .” And a little smiley face was drawn next to the words. 

“Thank you.” Luke went back to his apartment. He examined the check as if it would give him some insight into who his neighbor might be. 

Michael Clifford, it said in the top left corner. A search of Michael Cliffords yielded millions of options. Faceless, voiceless, but generous and kind, he could still be anyone. 


	4. Chapter 4

Ashton threw up his hands the minute Luke returned to work. “All Hail! The conquering hero!” He shouted, causing all the patrons sitting at tables to turn towards the doorway. Hopefully none of them would leave a bad Yelp review. Luke ducked his head and hurried behind the counter. Luckily it was a quiet time. 

“Thanks, and also, fuck you.” But he laughed.

“Yeah, yeah. Seriously though. Are you ok?” 

Luke nodded. “Yeah. But hey, I had another encounter with my neighbor.”

“Ooooo. Do tell. What does the mystery person look like?” 

“I still haven’t seen him. I knocked on his door to ask him to borrow me some money for rent.” Luke had hoped to gloss over that part but Ashton stopped him. 

“I wish I could’ve done more, man. I hate seeing you having a hard time like that.”

“You did plenty. That soup your mom made? I think that was better for me than the medicine.” Luke tried to lighten the mood. 

“Still.”

“So my neighbor,” Luke hurried on. He told the whole story. Ashton’s reaction was satisfyingly incredulous. 

“He wrote you a blank check?”

“That’s what I said! Who does that!” 

“Maybe he has so much money, it doesn’t matter. Maybe he’s a trust fund kid.”

“Living in my shitty apartment building?”

“Maybe he’s the disgraced son of royalty.”

“Jesus. And you call me over-imaginative.” Luke sighed. “Whoever he is, I have to find a way to pay him back. It was so nice of him.”

“Maybe you could offer to pay him back in kind.”

“In kind?”

“Yeah. You know. In...kind” Ashton raised his eyebrows and shimmied his shoulders suggestively. 

Luke threw a straw at him. 

“Right. Ok. Serious Ashton answer.” Ashton held up his hands. “I meant like, if he’s some kind of hermit, which his lack of door-opening skills would suggest, maybe he’d appreciate someone doing stuff for him. Getting his groceries. Picking up his mail. That kind of thing.”

“I’ll think about that.” Luke said. And then, someone came up to the register, effectively ending the conversation. 

It was early Saturday morning and Luke was awake against his will. 

A steady stream of days working before sunrise meant that, unless he was recovering from a late show the night before, his body woke up early no matter what time the alarm was set. 

There was a knocking on Michael’s door. It felt wrong but Luke walked over to better hear.

“Michael? Michael. Please. Let me in.” a man’s voice was saying. “Come on, you can’t keep living this way. Please, let me help you.” 

There was only silence from Michael’s apartment. 

He knocked again. “Michael. I know you’re in there. You’re my best friend. I miss you. Please, open the door.”

Silence. 

A heavy sigh. “Ok. I’m gunna go. But I’m not giving up on you. I’ll come try again soon.”

Luke waited until the footsteps thunked down the stairs. And then waited a little more. He didn’t know what he was waiting for. There was only more silence from his neighbor. 

Finally, haphazardly, Luke stepped out into the hallway, siddled two steps over and was in front of the door. He was knocking before he planned to. 

“Hey. It’s Luke. Oh, I mean. I’m Luke. Your neighbor? Who owes you money?” 

He waited. But there was no message. Maybe Micheal was out after all. 

“Anyway. I just. I didn’t mean to. But I overheard someone knocking and I just wanted to make sure that you're ok. That he isn’t like. A crazy stalker. Or something.”

Finally, a note. 

_ Not a stalker. Or crazy. I’m ok.  _

Luke pushed his hair behind his ears, smiling for no real reason. “Ok. Good.” 

And then another. 

_ Thanks. _

“Yeah. No worries.” Luke pulled at a loose thread on his oversized sweatshirt. “So, while I’m here. My friend Ashton and I were talking about how I owe you money. I know you said not to worry about it. But I’m a worrier. It’s in my nature. Anyway. He said. And please don’t get offended if he’s wrong. But he thought maybe you might not like being around people? So maybe I could start paying you back by taking care of some of that stuff for you? Like go to the grocery store for you if you need food. Go to the post office if you need stamps. And everyone hates the post office, right? So that one, I mean-”

Luke was interrupted by the note shoved under the door. 

_ Jesus. Do you always talk this much?  _

Luke laughed. “Uh, no, not usually. Just when I’m nervous.”

_ Don’t be nervous. I’m not mad.  _

That made Luke smile again. “That’s good. So. What do you think?” 

_ Are you sure? You really don’t have to. I get by. _

“I’m sure. I want to and I can so there’s no reason not to. Unless you don’t want me to.”

_ I do hate going to the grocery store.  _

Luke clapped his hands together. “Good. Ok. You can just make a list of what you need and put it under my door and I’ll leave whatever I get you in the hallway when I get off work.”

_ Ok.  _

When Luke went to go head out for work the next day, there was a list written on a piece of note paper with a twenty dollar bill paper clipped to it. 


	5. Chapter 5

“Success!” Luke held up the list for Ashton to see. 

“Is this the neighbor?” Ashton grabbed it out of his hands and examined it critically. “Lots of canned things. Soup. Peach cups?”

“He probably means those peaches that kids always have in bag lunches. Probably because I have to leave it in the hallway. He wouldn’t want anything that could go bad.”

“Makes sense. But also. How sad. A life without yogurt? Can you imagine?”

“Yes, Ashton, I can imagine.” Luke rolled his eyes as he made a latte. “Lots of people don’t eat yogurt. I hardly ever eat yogurt.”

“Maybe you should. Put some granola on it. And some fruit. That’s probably why you got sick. Not enough calcium in your diet.”

“Thanks, Doctor Irwin. Please attempt to stay on subject with me.” 

“This is so great!”

Luke narrowed his eyes, suspicious. “Why are you so happy about this? I’m just paying him back. You suggested it. It’s just groceries.”

“Yes. But also the groceries of your mysterious neighbor. The one who you’ve been talking about constantly for 2 months.”

“Not constantly-”

“Constantly. You should get him some yogurt. He probably needs the vitamin D if he never goes outside. You can put it in my cold things grocery bag.”

“Ok.” Luke said. “But I’m blaming you if he doesn’t like it.”

“So noted.” 

That evening Luke knocked on Michael’s door, waited, and slid the extra money under the door using the same paperclip to attach the receipt. When it disappeared, he launched into an explanation. 

“I got you some stuff that wasn’t on your list. My friend Ashton was very adamant about yogurt so he borrowed me this grocery bag of his that keeps things cold. I got you some Yoplait because A. it was on sale and B. it reminded me of that Mitch Hedberg joke? You know, ‘fruit on the bottom. Hope on top’? Anyway, I hope you're not lactose intolerant.”

_ Not lactose intolerant. Who’s Mitch Hedberg? _

“Oh. He’s a comedian from the early 2000s. He’s the one who says, ‘rice is great when you’re hungry and want 2000 of something.”

Luke heard a snort of laughter through the door and almost fainted. 

_ Thanks. For everything. And tell Ashton thanks for the yogurt.  _

“Yeah,” Luke managed somewhat too quietly. “No problem.”

That night, laying in his bed he heard a sound for the first time from Michael’s apartment though the thin wall. Mitch Hedburg’s set on Dave Letterman. Luke hugged his arms around himself. 

“I love this video.” He said, loud enough to carry. The clip paused for a second, then distinctly there were 2 knocks on his bedroom wall. Luke put his hand over the spot. “Yeah, it’s really great.” The video started again and Luke imagined someone on the other side of the wall listening. A person who could still be anyone. It was almost like they were watching it together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is in danger of pivoting into my love for the great Mitch Hedburg. If you'd like, here he is on Dave Letterman. It never fails to make me laugh.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QljBEqzJN-M


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! I'm sending this out with just tons of love! For anyone out there celebrating Thanksgiving alone or not around the people they love most. I'm with you there. This years been tough but we're going to get through it.   
> Love, love, love.

The next time he got a grocery list, at the bottom Michael had written a phone number. Under that it said, “ _ In case you have other questions for me.” _

Luke did a happy little spin in the hallway, admittedly just outside of the door. He saved the number into his phone and, after much deliberation, texted it, “Hey, this Luke!”

There was no response. When he got the groceries after work that night, Luke texted again. “Groceries in hallway!”

This time the answer was almost immediate. “ _ Thanks” _

An hour later, Luke was practicing for his show the next day when his phone buzzed. It was Michael.

“ _ That sounds so good. You’re really talented.” _

Luke felt his cheeks go all pink. He leaned back and against the wall and said aloud, “I’m glad you like it. I was all worried when I moved in that my neighbors would complain about the noise.”

There were 2 knocks against the wall and then,  _ “I don’t mind. The last people played Country Western music constantly. This is way better.” _

“Thanks. I’m thinking about adding something into my set. Something a little more like, mellow but not boring, you know?”

The little dots appeared and disappeared several times.  _ “Where’s your show?” _

“At the 502? Tomorrow at 8? You could come if you want.” Even though he knew Michael wouldn’t say yes. Still, it felt wrong not to at least offer. 

It was even longer this time.  _ “I can’t. I’m sorry.” _

“It’s ok.” And it was, Luke swallowed the tiniest bit of disappointment that had grown while he waited. 

_ “It’s not that I don’t want to.” _

“No, I know. It’s really ok.” Luke hoped Michael could hear the smile in his voice. “You’ve gotten a preview of most of the show tonight anyway.”

While he waited, Luke played a couple cords. He got a little lost in the music and was almost surprised to feel the phone vibrate against his leg. 

_ “I read that Mitch Hedburg performed with his eyes closed because he had such bad stage fright.” _

“Yeah. I’ve heard that too.” 

_ “Do you think he thought it was worth it?”  _

Luke thought about that. “Honestly? I don’t know. To me, performing is the best feeling on earth. But I think people have to do what’s right for them, you know? Only they can decide that.” 

Another long pause. 

_ “Have you seen any of John Mulaney’s netflix specials?” _

“Yesss. They’re so good!” Luke put his guitar in its case. “I’m done playing. You wanna watch one?” 

“ _ Yeah.”  _

Luke settled down on the bed, listening to the beginning of the special starting up. 

There was something about this moment that Luke wished he could capture into a song. It felt like the air whooshing past when he drove above the speed limit, like the way an empty stage looked before he took the first steps out from the wings. Like when he rode the subway into the city with all his possessions, seeing the skyline looming up and then all around him. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok friends here's what happened:   
> I was merrily finishing up the end of this story and then I went for a walk. And my walking brain said, ahhhh but what if this happened instead? 
> 
> So I decided, for better or worse, to do like "two roads diverged in a yellow wood" up in here.   
> A sort of choose your own adventure, if you will. 
> 
> For the story as it was originally intended, stay here on this post. This version wraps up quite quickly and sweetly.
> 
> OR for the new branch, go to Part 2 of the series. It will pick up where chapter 6 left off and then veer in a completely different, more angsty (what can you do?) direction. 
> 
> Or read both! You do you, man!

2 weeks of periodic grocery shopping later, Luke had a show that felt so fantastic that he almost called his parents to tell them about it. Almost. After, he met up with Ashton to celebrate how well it went. Way too many drinks in, stumbling home, the world bleary and shuddering, he caught the front door as someone was leaving and found himself outside his apartment without his keys. 

He tried to picture where he might have left them. In Ashton’s car? Or maybe they fell out of his pocket when he took out his wallet at the bar? 

In any case, he slid down the wall beside his door, too tired and drunk to do anything else for a moment. He would call Ashton as soon as he could see straight. 

Some time later, someone was shaking his shoulders. He opened his eyes but the hallway was dim and his vision still felt a little unclear. But it was almost certainly Michael. Michael levering him back to standing and half carrying him two steps over and into the neighboring apartment. Michael laying him down on a bed in a room that was the mirror image of his own. 

It was dark in the apartment. Luke could just make out messy hair and dark glasses. 

“Hey,” he managed as Michael was standing back up. He reached for Michael’s hand. “Don’t go.”

Michael pulled his hand free but then lay down next to Luke. His body curled around the spaces Luke left free, his knees inches from Luke’s, his fingers lax next to Luke’s shoulder. 

“I think you’re the nicest person.” Luke’s drunk brain decided to say. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so nice.”

Michael let his fingers creep a little closer, til they touched Luke’s arm, feather light. 

Luke almost cried at the tiny gesture. 

“See? So nice. So.” He didn’t mean to, but he fell asleep without finishing the thought. 

Someone was knocking on the door. The pounding was mirrored by Luke’s aching head when he opened his eyes. For a moment, the world was tilting on its axis, so off kilter. His bedroom was wrong. A mess of clothes scattered across the floor, a tangle of necklaces on top of a dresser that's drawers were all partially open. Then his eyes landed on the body laying next to him and it all came screeching back. 

Michael was sleeping next to him. His chest was rising and falling steadily with deep sleep breathes. In the morning light Luke could see him clearly, about his age with soft blond hair and about a hundred layers of oversized clothes, dark stubble and chapped lips. Luke almost forgot what woke him up until he heard the knocking again. He hurriedly untangled himself from the bedding and went to the door. 

“Michael?” the voice was saying. The same voice from almost a month ago. “Please let me in.” 

Despite that plea, when Luke opened the door, the figure on the other side took a shocked step backward and then another when he saw it was Luke. 

“What the fuck?” the man said. He was about as tall as Luke, but with dark hair and impressive muscles. He looked around, confused. “Do I? Is this the wrong apartment?”

“No,” Luke said hurriedly. “It’s just Michael’s sleeping. I didn’t want to wake him up. He looks like he needed the rest.” 

The man was clearly thrown. “Michael never sleeps. That’s why I came so early. It never matters because he doesn’t sleep. Wait. Ok. Who the fuck are you?” 

“Oh, sorry. I’m Luke. I live next door. Michael just. He let me crash here last night because I lost my keys.”

“He let you in? To his apartment?” Even though clearly yes. 

“I don’t think he would’ve. Except you know, like desperate times, desperate measures. Or. Whatever. He’d never opened the door when I knocked before or anything.” 

“Oh. Well. Ah, I’m Calum.” Calum, apparently, said. “Can I ask you, does he seem ok?” 

“Um. Yeah. I think so.” Luke looked back into the apartment. “I think he’s been eating all the yogurt I’ve bought him. And Ashton says that’s good. You know, calcium. Vitamin D.”

“What? Yogurt doesn’t have vitamin D.” Calum’s eyebrows were still all pushed together, wrapping his head around this turn of events. “But that’s good, I guess. When he wakes up, would you tell him I came by? And that. If there’s anything I can do, I just wanna help. Whatever he needs.”

“I’ll tell him.” Luke said.

Calum nodded and then took a step away. And then another. He seemed reluctant to turn away from the open door. And Luke hated the thought of closing it on him. But eventually he was down the stairs and Luke went back into the apartment. 


	8. Chapter 8

In the sparse kitchen, Luke rustled up some ground coffee and set about getting the machine all ready to brew. It was an old one, crusted over with ancient coffee stains. Luke scrubbed away at it in the sink, pointedly not looking at the dishes overflowing on the other side, the scum caked up on the countertops. When he got the coffee percolating, he looked up and there was Michael. He looked waif-like, half hidden by the doorway. His clothes hung so loose on him, he could’ve been any size underneath. He had his hands clasped up in front of his mouth. 

“Hey!” Luke went for overly cheerful, even through what was ramping up to be quite the hangover. “Good morning! I thought I’d make coffee. I hope that’s ok. I’ve been working in a coffee shop for awhile so. I basically live off of it now.” 

Michael nodded slowly. He went to dig through one of his pockets, producing a pen and a pad of paper. 

_ I thought you’d go when you woke up. _

“Do you want me to? I can go. It’s no problem. Only. My phone died. And I have to find my friend Ashton to see if he knows what happened to my keys. I don’t want to impose, though. I can-” He cut himself off when he saw Michael scribbling. 

Finally,  _ I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. You’re already here.  _

“Yeah. But if you want me to leave, I’ll go. It was really nice of you to let me stay the night. You don’t have to-” He stopped again, the memory crashing in from the night before, him saying over and over, You’re so nice, so nice. Luke knew his face was going red. “Anyway. Do you drink coffee?” He held up a mug he’d cleaned, hopefully before Michael came within sight range. Michael nodded hesitantly and took the mug once Luke filled it with coffee and then one for himself. “I should’ve gotten you some breakfast food when I was at the store. I make a mean omelette. Like Julia Child minus the wartime activities.”

Michael looked vaguely alarmed by that statement. He slid the pad of paper closer but hesitated. Luke quelled his desire to fill the silence while Michael figured out what to write. 

_ You’ve probably figured out by now, I’m not good at people. I have this thing that means I can almost never talk. _

While Luke was reading those words Michael was scribbling some more. 

_ It’s called Selective Mutism. I’ve had it since I was a kid. It’s an anxiety thing. It would kind of come and go depending on who I was with. That’s the selective part.  _

_ I was working really hard at it and I was getting better. And then my folks died and suddenly I couldn’t talk at all anymore.  _

When Luke looked up from reading, Michael shrugged helplessly at him and passed over another page. 

_ It’s easier this way. You’re the only person I even write notes like this to.  _

“I don’t mind,” Luke said as quickly as he could. “I’m so sorry, about your family. That’s. I don’t. But I like your notes. I like the way you write. I understand if you want to keep the door between us. I won’t be like, offended. I’ll still buy you yogurt and listen to comedians with you through the wall. But I like your face. I really don’t mind.”

_ You will though. When I can never go to a bar. Or go hear you play. Never go to a party for your birthday. One day you’ll want me to be different. And I don’t know how to be any different.  _

“I won’t.” Luke reached across the counter and squeezed Michael’s hand gently. “I mean, I’ll want you to be happy. But I like you already. I like you right now.” 

Michael took his hand back to write. 

_ I like you right now too.  _

Luke grinned down at the words. “Can I keep this?” He held up the note. 

Michael laughed a little, for the first time that morning. The only sound Luke had ever heard him make. He nodded. 

“So, I’m gunna go now and find my keys. And then later I’ll come back and knock on your door. And if you want I’ll make you dinner and if you don’t want, we can talk, and not talk, through the door. Either thing will be good with me.”

Michael nodded again. He tapped the pen against his mouth which only made Luke fixate on that spot. Then he rolled his eyes and only wrote,  _ OK.  _

“Ok,” Luke said back. Michael walked him to the door. He waved a little before beginning to close it, halfway hidden by the door, looking shy but there. So there. Luke felt like Calum, soaking in every second of the open door, walking backwards to the stairs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I already wrote a story where the people say, "I like you already. I like you right now." But honestly, I might write that into everything from now on. Because I think it's a beautiful statement. Dealing with my own mental stuff feels like sometimes I have to "fix" myself before I can find someone. And the thought of someone seeing all that gunk in my brain and saying, "I like you already" makes me feel like. I don't know. Not like it's romanticizing mental health stuff but. Like. Romanticizing life despite mental health stuff. 
> 
> Anyway! You didn't need these end notes! (does anyone ever need any of my notes?) Much love!


	9. Chapter 9

Ashton answered his door holding up Luke’s keys. 

“Oh thank god!” Luke cradled them in his hands. 

“I was about to go try and find you! Where did you stay last night? I was so worried when I found them in my car.”

“My neighbor, uh, sort of let me crash with him?”

Ashton stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind him. “Holy shit!” 

“Aren’t you going to be cold out here without your coat?”

“Yeah, but my brothers in the living room watching tv and I wanted to be able to say, fuck yes! Finally! What does he look like? Is he 90?”

“What? No. He’s like, our age. And uh. Nice...looking. Nice to look at. Uh.”

“Oh my God, just say he’s hot. It’s not that hard.”

“Ok. He’s really hot.” Luke blushed. “He wrote me a note about how he doesn’t talk but I told him I don’t mind.”

Ashton thought about that, rubbing his fingers through the beginning of stubble on his chin. “Well good. You want to come in and have lunch with us?”

“I shouldn’t. My phone’s dead.”

“Charge it here. Come on. I made this goulash thing I want you to try.”

“Fine.” Luke let himself be pulled into the house. “But don’t think you’re fooling anyone. I can tell you just want to hear more about Michael.” 

“You caught me.” Ashton laughed. “But don’t think you’re fooling anyone either. You want to tell me all about him too.”

Luke used the bus ride home to do research. He didn’t want Micheal to have to explain everything about why he couldn’t talk. He imagined that would be hard to write out. As he was walking from the bus stop, he saw the used book store’s open sign flashing and decided to stop in. By the time he got home it was getting on towards dinner and he hadn’t even thought of what he might make for Michael. But then, Michael might not open the door. Luke took the time walking up the steps trying to convince himself he wouldn’t be disappointed if he didn’t. 

He bounced on his toes, knocking, the plastic bag from the book store bumping against his legs. Just when he was going to give up, the lock clicked over and Michael was there. He stepped back and then Luke was in his apartment again. Michael led him over to a very worn couch. 

He handed Luke a note. 

_ It’s ok if you’ve changed your mind from this morning.  _

Luke shook his head immediately. “Nope. I was going to say the same thing to you, if you didn’t want me to come in here.”

Michael bit at his thumb nail for a second, then,  _ I like you being here. I’m trying not to freak out about it.  _ He looked down at the bag Luke was holding and raised an eyebrow. 

Luke set it down on the coffee table. Took a breath. 

“So. Um. I got you something. But I still don’t need you to be different. I still like you right now. But I was looking up selective mutism on my phone just to learn more and this one guy said sign language has really helped him. I mean it was just on some random internet site so I’m not saying it’s like, official but I-” 

Michael threw up both his hands and then slowly lowered them, breathing out. Then he picked up his pen and turned the pad so Luke could see what he’d written. 

_ Don’t be nervous :) _

“Right, sorry. So. Sign language. Did you ever try that?” 

He waited while Michael wrote.

“ _ I thought about it. But the therapist I had at the time said she thought I should focus on getting comfortable with talking. She didn’t want me to avoid the issue or something.” _

“Oh. Well, I was walking by that used bookstore on 11th and I popped in and asked if they had any sign language books. And I got these. But I can return them right back if you don’t want them.”

Michael slid the two books out of the flimsy bag. He touched the peeling corner of the top one almost reverently. He opened it and then stopped abruptly, finally looking back up. He put one palm up to his mouth and then extended it out and down towards Luke. Luke leaned over to see. 

The book showed a picture of the same gesture and under it, the caption, Thank you. 

When he looked up, Michael’s eyes looked a little pink and he was biting at his lip. 

“It doesn’t say how to say your welcome! Why wouldn’t they put that on the same page as thank you!”

Michael wrote and handed over a note.  _ But you’d have to learn too, if you wanted to understand me. _

“Oh! Yeah! Of course I’m going to learn too! Why’d you think I got 2 books?” 

Michael was flipping through to the index and turning the pages hurriedly as Luke finished talking. When he found what he saw looking for, he raised his palm and put his fingertips to his mouth again and then moved them to his cheek. Luke leaned over the book again. 

Kiss, the caption said. 

He looked up and Michael hesitantly put one hand on Luke’s shoulder, right on the curve of his neck. He breathed a shuddery breath as Luke leaned in and Luke felt it on his mouth. Every bit of Luke seemed more hyper aware than ever before as if Michae’s silence made every other part of him more tangible, his knee pressed into Luke’s thigh, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. Luke imagined living frozen in the moment forever, centimeters away from Michael’s mouth, breathing together. 

But then Michael pushed forward the final inch and that was even better. His mouth felt soft and sweet, his hands sliding up into Luke’s hair, pulling him closer. When they finally pulled away from each other, the sun was setting through the living room window. Michael was all silhouetted by the glow, haloed by the light. Luke reached up and touched the cut of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the curve of his cheek. 

“I never knew how to picture you.” He said by way of explanation. “I never thought it could turn out like this.” 

Michael turned his face further into Luke’s hand, pressing his mouth into Luke’s palm. Then he reached for his pen.  _ I’m glad you lost your keys.  _

“Me too,” Luke laughed. “How about I heat up some soup? And then we watch something together? Like actually together.” 

Michael grinned.  _ Kid Gorgeous??? _

“We’ve done that one like, 3 times.”

_ Not ‘actually together’ though. _

“Ok,” Luke got up off the couch. “I’ll heat up dinner. You get it going.” 

From the kitchen he could hear Michael setting up his laptop. He closed his eyes while the microwave started up. He liked the sound of Michael moving around the next room over. It was enough. Just this. It was more than plenty. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! All that's left of this one is a little epilogue! Which I might even post later today because...drum roll...I'm off quarantine and back to work tomorrow! Hooray! 
> 
> Seriously, thank you to anyone out there who read this. I hope you liked it. I hope it brought a few happy moments in these strange days. Much love!


	10. Chapter 10

Luke was pacing around backstage. Around and around. Just a minute ago, Ashton had come back to tell him that there was a crowd that filled the entire venue, a more notorious bar than he’d ever played before. That there were people turned away at the door. 

Luke took a breath and another breath. His phone pinged on the green room counter. 

_ Break a leg!  _ Michael had written.  _ You’re going to be great!  _

Luke breathed out. “Thanks,” he wrote back, “is Calum there?”

_ Yeah, we got pizza.  _ Michael included about 13 emojis after that, smiley faces and heart eyes and, for some reason, the two dancing people.  _ I’m teaching him all the dirty words in sign language. _

“I didn’t know we knew any dirty words.”

_ We don’t. But Calum doesn’t know that _ . 

Luke knew he probably had a dopey smile on his face. “Nice”

Ashton poked his head back into the room. “They said it’s time. Are you ready?” 

“Yeah,” Luke said. “I’ll be right there.”

“Time for the show,” he sent to Michael. 

The owner of the bar was finishing up introducing him. His voice rose and the crowd at the front of the stage cheered in mirrored excitement. Then the lights were shifting, narrowing in on the place Luke would walk to the microphone. 

His phone buzzed from his pocket and Luke risked one more look. 

_ You got this, babe. See you at home.  _

Luke closed his eyes, took one more breath and stepped out onto the stage. 


End file.
